But this could not last. Lucien, with his poetic temperament
and boundless longings, could not withstand the temptations held out
by the play-bills.
The Theatre-Francais, the Vaudeville, the Varietes, the Opera-Comique
relieved him of some sixty francs, although he always went to the pit.
What student could deny himself the pleasure of seeing Talma in one of
his famous roles? Lucien was fascinated by the theatre, that first
love of all poetic temperaments; the actors and actresses were
awe-inspiring creatures; he did not so much as dream of the possibility
of crossing the footlights and meeting them on familiar terms. The men
and women who gave him so much pleasure were surely marvelous beings,
whom the newspapers treated with as much gravity as matters of
national interest. To be a dramatic author, to have a play produced on
the stage! What a dream was this to cherish! A dream which a few bold
spirits like Casimir Delavigne had actually realized. Thick swarming
thoughts like these, and moments of belief in himself, followed by
despair gave Lucien no rest, and kept him in the narrow way of toil
and frugality, in spite of the smothered grumblings of more than one
frenzied desire.
Carrying prudence to an extreme, he made it a rule never to enter the
precincts of the Palais Royal, that place of perdition where he had
spent fifty francs at Very's in a single day, and nearly five hundred
francs on his clothes; and when he yielded to temptation, and saw
Fleury, Talma, the two Baptistes, or Michot, he went no further than
the murky passage where theatre-goers used to stand in a string from
half-past five in the afternoon till the hour when the doors opened,
and belated comers were compelled to pay ten sous for a place near the
ticket-office.
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